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281
Heroes of the Telegraph
·
John Munro
199
The
basement
of
the
main
building
was
occupied
by
his
office,
a
choice
library,
a
cabinet
replete
with
instruments
of
precision,
and
a
large
airy
workshop,
provided
with
lathes
and
steam
power,
where
his
workmen
shaped
his
ideas
into
wood
and
metal.
The
books
lying
about,
the
designs
and
placards
on
the
walls,
the
draught-board
on
the
table,
gave
it
the
appearance
of
a
mechanics'
club-room.
The
free
and
lightsome
behaviour
of
the
men,
the
humming
at
the
benches,
recalled
some
school
of
handicraft.
There
were
no
rigid
hours,
no
grinding
toil
under
the
jealous
eye
of
the
overseer.
The
spirit
of
competition
and
commercial
rivalry
was
absent.
It
was
not
a
question
of
wringing
as
much
work
as
possible
out
of
the
men
in
the
shortest
time
and
at
the
lowest
price.
Moreover,
they
were
not
mere
mechanical
drudges--they
were
interested
in
their
jobs,
which
demanded
thought
as
well
as
skill.
Upstairs
was
the
laboratory
proper--a
long
room
containing
an
array
of
chemicals;
for
Edison
likes
to
have
a
sample
of
every
kind,
in
case
it
might
suddenly
be
requisite.
On
the
tables
and
in
the
cupboards
were
lying
all
manner
of
telegraphic
apparatus,
lenses,
crucibles,
and
pieces
of
his
own
inventions.
A
perfect
tangle
of
telegraph
wires
coming
from
all
parts
of
the
Union
were
focussed
at
one
end
of
the
room.
An
ash-covered
forge,
a
cabinet
organ,
a
rusty
stove
with
an
old
pivot
chair,
a
bench
well
stained
with
oils
and
acids,
completed
the
equipment
of
this
curious
den,
into
which
the
sunlight
filtered
through
the
chemical
jars
and
fell
in
coloured
patches
along
the
dusty
floor.
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